


Stars Shining Bright Above You

by Queen_Rhaenas_Favourite



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Dragons, F/M, Glass candle, Great bastards, Magic, Prophecy, direwolf, direwolves, quaithe is shiera, three eyed crow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25264867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Rhaenas_Favourite/pseuds/Queen_Rhaenas_Favourite
Summary: Bran wakes in the middle of the night as he senses something has changed in the cave of the three eyed crow. He then finds himself eavesdropping in a conversation between two people most of the world believe to be dead.
Relationships: Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers/Shiera Seastar
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Stars Shining Bright Above You

_Something is wrong,_ Bran knew it immediately. He did not know who or what had woken him, but it was nothing he had ever felt before. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone move, a shadow shifting across the pale white roots. _Who’s there?_ He tried to shout, but he found his body unable to move, only his eyes were free.

The shadow stepped away from the cave wall and into the moonlight. Bran could see them better now, though only the side that faced him. They wore a long dark robe and a hood covered their head, when they turned to glance around the cave bran saw their face was red, _no, not their face,_ he realised, _they wear a mask, a red wooded mask._ The front of the robe was embellished with silver threads, and the clasp of their cloak was adorned with a black fire opal that seemed to shine in the starlight.

Something in their dress and the way they moved told Bran that this was a woman. She seemed to glide across the cave, her long robes obscuring her feet. _She is not dressed for this weather,_ Bran realised then, _no one would wear that North of the Wall, you would freeze to death in minutes_. But the woman did not seem affected by the cold.

She stopped beside Brans teacher and perched on the arm of his Weirwood throne. Cautiously, she reached out a had towards his face, but she snatched it back before she touched him. With her mask on Bran had no hint of her emotions. She looked to the floor and sighed deeply, and when she raised her head towards the three-eyed crow again she said something, a name, bran thought.

The first time she spoke so softly Bran could not hear what she had said, but when the crow would not wake she tried again. “Brynden,” this time she spoke loud enough to wake the old man. He looked around, confused for a moment, but his face grew hard when he saw her.

“Who are you?” The crow demanded.

The woman cocked her head. “I am Quaithe of the Shadow.”

The crow laughed dryly. “And why is it you hide your face from me, _Quaithe?_ ” He gestured to the opal at her throat. “I hope you are not fool enough to believe a glamour will work on me?”

“No,” she replied, “I didn’t think it would, that’s why I wore my mask. It does a far better job of concealing my face than some magic gem would. Either way, the stone is beautiful, and it pleases me to wear it.”

“Why are you here?” The crows voice was hard and cold as ice. “You know my name, how?”

“I came to speak to you,” she answered. “But I would think someone of your abilities would not have need to ask such questions, or can your eye not peer across the Narrow sea?”

“I see everything,” the crow said. “Everything that was and is and could be. I have seen Essos and beyond, but I have never seen you. Remove your mask, I do not like not knowing, I will see your face.”

“I don’t take well to demands. Ask it off me nicely.”

“Please,” the crow said through gritted teeth. “Remove your mask so I may see your face.”

“As you wish.”

She reached inside her hood, behind her head. As she pulled her mask away her hood fell back too. Bran did not recognise her face, but his teacher clearly had. In all the time he had been there Bran had never seen the crow look truly shocked by anything, but this had shocked him. After a moment of stunned silence choked out a name, _her name,_ but Bran was not close enough to hear.

The woman was beautiful, even he could see that. In Winterfell everyone had said Bran’s lady mother was beautiful, and his sister Sansa too. Father and Jon said Arya was beautiful, though no one else did, not even mother. And Bran thought Meera quite beautiful in many ways, but _this_ woman… no one could ever say she was not stunning. Her hair, now visible, was pure silver and the moonlight reflect off it so she appeared to glow. The woman smiled at the crow, and the boy noticed her eyes were not the same colour, one was jade green, the other sapphire blue. _Eyes like the sea…_

The longer bran looked at her the harder he found it to guess her age. At first glance she seemed young, Mayhaps five and twenty, no older. Then He looked again and the woman looked of an age with Meera. Next, she seemed to be old, her silver hair turning white grey. He shut his eyes tight and opened them again, her face had returned to the way he had first seen her.

“You got old, Brynden,” she told him.

“You didn’t,” he replied. “But then you never did. Tell me, is this a dream, or are you really here?”

“Neither,” _that makes no sense,_ Bran thought.

“Then how….”

“I should correct myself,” she explained. “It is not a dream in the normal sense, though _normal dream_ for you is much different to any other man I’d expect. I am here only in your mind, but it is truly me, you can be assured of that.”

“How are you in my head?”

She laughed, it was a sweet sound. “Need you really ask? You know more about the mysteries of this world than anyone, surely you can feel it too; the old powers are awakening. The glass candles are burning.”

“Of course I can feel it. Even you must know what lurks beyond these walls. The old powers are returning, though not, I fear, for the good.”

“The Others?” She hid it well but bran could hear the fear in her voice.

“Winter is coming. It’s true, and when it does the Long Night will fall upon us all. All of us, everyone from me here in my cave, to you in whatever hope you’re hiding in, we will all die,” Bran had known what was coming, but hearing it said in that way brought him out in a cold sweat. The crow looked at the woman in silence for a moment, then he spoke softly. “Why now?”

“Why what now?” She asked.

“Why have you only come to my now?” The crow asked. “I looked for you, for _years._ After I left Kingslanding I tried to find you, and I couldn’t. I thought you were dead! But all this time you were alive and hiding from me.”

“Not just from you,” she objected, weakly. “My look is well known, in Essos as well as here, and there were others in the Free Cities who shared our blood. There still are the last time I checked. I did not want to be found by them, or anyone else, so I went someone even your eye cannot reach.”

“Asshai?”

“I told you, I am Quaithe of the shadow. It was there I learnt to conceal my face, hide my identity. Now I am in Quarth, there’s a man here who owns a black candle, made of dragon glass. I learned of them in Asshai, they allow me to enter the dreams of another.”

“I know what they do,” the crow answered indignantly. “That still does not answer the question of why you waited so long.”

“I _told_ you,” the woman sighed, “it is only very recently that magic has returned. Before that there was none who could even hope to light a glass candle. I had no way of coming to you.”

“Could you not at least have removed your mask, stopped hiding for a moment and let me see that you’re alive.”

“No, I could not, I feared others could be watching me,” She reached out and touched the red birthmark on his jaw. The crows head was practically part of the tree after so long of sitting in the roots, so moving it at all must have been agony. But he leaned his head into her hand all the same. “I am sorry, my love. And please do not think these years have been easy for me, I spent almost seventy years wondering what had become of you too. And I must admit, I was shocked to find you here.”

“It is where I was called.”

“To what ends?” She asked. “What is it you hope to achieve? Will you defeat the others yourself from the roots of this God Tree?”

“Not here,” the crow hushed. “Not now. I cannot say.”

“Why?”

She leaned close to hear him, but Bran still heard the words. “The Wolf is watching.”

She laughed again. “The boy or the beast?” She looked into Brans eyes and he felt a shiver go down his spine. “That is an interesting talent you have, child. To look into the dreams of another the way an ordinary man might look into the sun.” Her voice sharpened. “You must be careful though, the one will leave you just as blind as the other.”

“Do not scare the boy,” the crow took her hand. “He is only a child.”

“And a beastling, like yourself,” she frowned at him. “Is this the reason you abandoned your watch? To become a tree and teach a cripple how to skinchange? I must say I’m rather hurt. You seem so wroth that I did not come to you before now, but how should I feel that you broke your vows to become this when you could have sought me out yourself?”

“I did not choose this. If I had a choice you know I would have come to you, but this is where I was called, this is my purpose now,” Bran was wracking his brains, _why do I not know her? I must have learned of her at some point, she knew bloodraven before he became the three eyed crow._ “You have not yet told me what it is _you_ have been doing this whole time.”

“While you have been here teaching the wolf boy your tricks, I have been counselling another of our kin. A great great niece of ours to some degree, Aegon’s great granddaughter. Daenerys, have you seen her?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“She is the right, true heir to the Iron Throne, the breaker of chains, the sacker of cities, a Khaleesi of the great grass sea, Queen of Meereen, the _unburnt_ and the Mother of _dragons._ Brother, she has brought _dragons_ back into the world!”

_Brother,_ Bran thought, _she called him brother, can it be…_

“No, Shiera,” The Crow shook his head. _Shiera,_ Bran felt a fool for not seeing it before. _Shiera Seastar, the last of Aegon the fourth’s great bastards, Lord Bloodraven’s paramour. But she must be over a hundred years old, how?_ “If dragons had returned I would have felt it.”

“I have seen them with my own two eyes, Brynden,” she insisted. Bran remembered the comet that had come, forever ago it seemed, Osha had told him then that stars do not bleed for men, that the comet meant dragons. He had not believed her. “Look for them now, you will find two in Meereen, the last is upon the Dothraki Sea, with _her_.”

Bran saw his teachers eye roll back, and then followed him. Around him was nothing but green grass, as far as he could see. The crow saw him, “Bran, you should not have followed me here.”

“I want to see,” he protested. “I want to see the Dragon.”

“Do you shall,” the crow nodded to something, and Bran turned. The beast was larger than any horse, and animal Bran had ever seen. It was black and red and it’s fangs dripped with blood as it tore into the charred carcass of a horse. The beast sat up for a moment and shook out its wings, giving Bran a clear view of its size. It did not seem as big as other dragons he had read of, but he supposed it was young, and when he looked closely he saw it had several puncture wounds through his wings.

While it was standing Bran saw what looked like a girl crouched beside him. She was ripping bits of burning horseflesh of the carcass and eating them ravenously, not seeming to notice that half the meat was still on fire and half was still raw. She had silver hair much like Shiera’s, though shorter and blackened by ash in patches. _This must be the woman she was speaking of, but that woman was a queen, this one looks like a wildling._

Suddenly, the noise of hoof beats filled the air, and a hoard of mounted men came galloping over the ridge. Bran looked to his teacher, who was watching intently as the situation unfolded. When the wild woman saw the riders approach she wiped the blood from her mouth and stood. Her clothes were in tatters, and she was covered in blood and dirt and ash. But when she stood before them, head held high and a dragon beside her as hundred of riders encircled her, Bran saw the look on her face and knew that she was every bit a queen.

They fell back into the cave, and the dream woman was still there, waiting for them.

“Did you see?” She asked the crow.

“I did.”

“You know the prophecies as well as any. It _has_ to be her. She woke the stone dragons, was reborn amidst salt and smoke beneath a bleeding star!” Shiera’s eyes were full of hope and devotion. “It has to be her, there’s no one else. She’s the last of Aerys and Rhaella’s bloodline.”

“No,” Bloodraven whispered.

“What?”

“She’s not the only one.”

“Who else? Tell me.”

“A boy..” he trailed of and his eye met Brans. He beckoned the woman closer so the boy would not hear what he said.

“Is this true?” Her face was hard as her mask now. “Are you _sure_?”

“Completely. I saw it, but no one knows, not even the lad himself. Only,” he gestured, first, Bran thought at him, then he realised he was pointing to the Reeds asleep beside him, “their father, he saw. But he is yet to bestir himself, and too many miles away to help anyone.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Could you reach him?” The crow asked. “With your candles?”

“Of course.”

“Then do so.”

“Now,” Shiera laughed dryly, but Bran thought it was to hide her hurt. “Almost seventy years we have been apart, and you would dismiss me so soon?”

“You will return, I have not doubt. But this is more important.”

“Very well,” she resigned. She had to bend down for her face to be level with his, then she kissed his cheek, just above the ugly red birthmark he bore. “Goodbye, brother.”

She was gone just as suddenly as she had arrived. Bran kept his eyes upon his teacher, and to his complete surprise, he saw a tear slip from his eye and roll down his cheek, as the corners of his mouth twisted in a sad smile. “Farewell, me love,” he whispered, though she was not there to hear it.

She returned twice more at night, though Bran decided it best not to snoop this time and simply went back to sleep when he saw who had come. The final time she came, was as Bran, Meera, Hodor and Summer were all scrabbling time collect their things and flee the cave of the three eyed crow. The Others had found their way in, and the Children were leading Brans party out through the tunnels, but Bloodraven could not flee. He was part of the tree, the roots so entwines around and through him that he was unable to move, even as the sights would flood the cave and claim his life. “Go!” He commanded when he saw Brans thoughts. “I have lived long enough, there is bought can be done for me now. You must go Bran!”

It was then that he saw the woman stood beside the crow, eyes fixed on Bran. There were tears in those eyes, but she nodded for the boy to go all the same.

Bran looked back one last time, and saw the Shiera Seastar sat the arm of the Brynden Rivers Weirwood throne. His hand was in hers, and though the wights and the Others were swarming the chamber, the two Great Bastards payed then no mind at all, they had eyes only for each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve discovered my new favourite thing is writing about dead/ presumed dead Targaryens.   
> Ok, I’m not saying this cake to me in a dream, I’m just saying I had a creepy dream about these two characters and decided to write a fic about them.  
> I really like the Quaithe = Shiera theory, so I wanted to find a way to include it, so this idea happened.  
> Hope you enjoyed it :)


End file.
